


Your Dream Man

by Incy Little Spider (1ncylilspider)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Protectiveness, Sweet, Typical Night Vale Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1ncylilspider/pseuds/Incy%20Little%20Spider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an earthquake hits town, Carlos discovers it has a very odd effect on the people of Night Vale. And it puts his Cecil in a whole lot of danger very fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Dream Man

The earth was rumbling dangerously in Night Vale, hard enough to make cars rattle across the streets and the furniture in people’s houses go crashing to the ground. As Carlos went through the usual tests to see if this was a warning for something much worse, his boyfriend reminded the town that nothing was real anyway, so they shouldn’t worry about their possessions or houses being destroyed. Didn’t you know, dear listeners, that everything in your life will be taken from you, that none of what you have will last forever, that even you one day, will be taken...maybe even tomorrow. Although your not supposed to know that. Forget it. No seriously.

Of course, Night Vale could never just have an earthquake. It always had to throw something at him he would never have expected. Looking up, his brow furrowed as Cecil’s voice started to change from his smooth sonorous tones, to something steadily higher pitched, squeaky and....younger?   
Abandoning his tests, he ran out to the other side of his lab where other members of his team should have been investigating alongside him. His eyes nearly boggled out of his head. On the ground sat a wailing baby, swimming in a white coat, two toddlers running around in circles, crying and n old, hunched and ancient old man, looking around, making confused noises. 

Well, what a fascinating yet terrifying new development.

The old man looked over at Carlos, who ran both hands through his hair, stumped about what to do.

“Uh...you should take the children...uh down to the underground bunker for safety,” he told him. “There’s not much else they can do now.”

He was about to suggest the old man help him out with his own tests, when there came a very strange sound from the radio. He whipped around, heart leaping up into his mouth, panic clouding his thoughts.

“M-Mom?” a tiny voice whimpered out. “M-Mom? Anyone? M-my name is Cecil...and I don’t know where I am and there’s...there’s rumbling in the ground...and I’m scared! Mommy?”

In a second, Carlos was sprinting for the door, nearly jumping for his car. Racing down the streets filled with old bent over citizens and wailing children, he switched on his radio. His ears were flooded with the sounds of the weather, thrumming indie guitar pop that provided as usual, a stark contrast to the pandemonium going on in the rest of the town. 

He narrowly avoided his car being hit by a falling street sign as he screeched to a stop outside the station. With his hands over his head to avoid shattered windows and lamp post glass raining down on him, he smashed inside, trying not to stumble over his feet across the violently shaking ground. 

On his way through the labyrinth of corridors, he saw a wrinkled old woman lying on the floor. She was aged to the point where her skin was blackening with decay, tongue lolling out of her mouth, a little name-tag reading Intern Anjelica.

Finally he reached the recording booth, kicking the door down and frantically looking around. His stomach seemed to turn into jelly, a cold sinking horror sweeping over him.   
The room was empty. 

“No, no, no...” he whispered, sending his hands through his hair, the strings of the lilting song pulsing pleasantly in his ears. Then through the thunderous roar of the town shaking furiously around them and the beautiful music, he heard something else. A hitching sobbing from underneath the table. He was crouching down immediately to find the shape of a little boy who looked around twelve years old, curled up on the floor with his face hidden away in his knees, drowning in his overlarge clothes. 

There was a resounding crash from somewhere outside and the little boy flinched, crying even harder as Carlos looked out the recording booth window to find parts of the ceiling falling down across the doorway, blocking them in. Trying not to let panic overcome him, he crawled under the table and wrapped his arms protectively around the child, cradling him away from the destruction raining down around them.

Cecil looked up, eyes red and puffy and his cheeks tinged pink at the sight of him. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Carlos shushed him, the floor rattling, dust sprinkling down from the ceiling. “Okay?”

The boy nodded, unable to tear his eyes away. 

“Tell me,” he said, trying to distract him. “Where were you before you appeared here?”

Cecil, with his fingers stuck in his mouth, blinked a few times, face still glowing scarlet.

“I was...uh...uh...I was going to sleep...it was bedtime...and I woke up here...am I in a dream?”

The man paused, not knowing exactly what to say to him. 

“Yes,” he told him gently. “This is all a bad dream, that’s all...”

The little boy kept on staring up at him, eyes huge and shiny.

“How can it be a bad dream if you’re here?”

Carlos couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’m just here to protect you mi chiquito,” he said, smoothing his hair out of his eyes. More tears silently bubbled down the boy’s cheeks, mucus dripping from his nose and down his chin. Carlos reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his face dry and Cecil pushed in closer into his arms like a kitten. 

“My M-Mom’s gone again,” he bleated up to him, looking so heartbroken it was like a knife to the middle of his chest. “S-Sometimes she does that...b-but what if she’s gone forever this time?”

He had no answer, so he just whispered, “ssh, ssh, ssh,” and brushed away another tear with the pad of his thumb. 

“And my brother...my brother’s gone so funny and I don’t understand why and he used to be nice but now something’s wrong and I don’t know what it is...”

He was getting himself into a state now and Carlos didn’t know idea what to do, rocking the hysterical child in his arms to try to calm him down. 

“...and...and...there’s lots of...lots of men and women who are together but not as many men and men and does that mean there’s something wrong with me...?”

His voice went high-pitched, cracking in the middle before he buried his face away in the man’s lab coat, tiny body trembling with sobs. Carlos breathed out shakily, his chest aching, racking his brains for something to say to make everything alright again. But what could he say? Cecil was the man with all the right words...but right Cecil was a scared little boy, desperately seeking comfort from someone who didn’t know exactly how to give it.

“There’s absolutely,” he said softly yet firmly, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Nothing wrong with you. And everyone in Night Vale love’s you for who you are.”

The boy sniffled into his white jacket, tears soaking through the material. 

“This town is many things, Cecil....” he went on. “Strange, terrifying and I don’t think that will ever change or we’ll ever stop being scared for our lives. But just remember, there’s going to be good times amongst all these...all these awful, horrifying times. And those good times will make it worth it.”

It was nowhere near the philosophical speeches spun by his older Cecil that touched something deep down in your soul and shook you to the very bones, but it was the best he could do. It seemed to work, the boy’s trembling finally seeming to settle down. They sat there until the rumbling slowly, steadily settled down and the last chords of the weather came to an end. And when he looked over, he didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed him transforming with a soft glow back into an adult again, nuzzled snugly into the crook of his neck.

They were both silent for what seemed like a long time, the dark-skinned man resting his forehead into the other’s hair. Then Cecil moved slightly, murmuring; “I still have to wrap up the show.”

“Of course,” he whispered. But they still didn’t move. 

“Turns out that dream I had when I was twelve wasn’t a figment of my imagination after all...” he said quietly. Then he smiled up at him, soft and warm, Carlos deeply breathing in the scent of his hair.

“Does that make me the man of your dreams then?” he teased and Cecil smiled wider, closing his eyes and nestling up closer against his chest.

“Yes,” he breathed happily back. “Yes, I think it does...”


End file.
